Migrations

It isn’t fair to be the kind of creature who is able to love but unable to stay.

A life's impact can be measured by what it gives and what it leaves behind, but it can also be measured by what it steals from the world.

We are, all of us, given such a brief moment of time together, it hardly seems fair. But it’s precious, and maybe it’s enough, and maybe it’s right that our bodies dissolve into the earth, giving our energy back to it, feeding the little creatures in the ground and giving nutrients to the soil, and maybe it’s right that our consciousness rests. The thought is peaceful.

I don't know how to force the world into a shape I can manage.

It’s not life I’m tired of, with its astonishing ocean currents and layers of ice and all the delicate feathers that make up a wing. It’s myself.

He said our lives mean nothing except as a cycle of regeneration, that we are incomprehensibly brief sparks, just as the animals are, that we are no more important than they are, no more worthy of life than any living creature. That in our self-importance, in our search for meaning, we have forgotten how to share the planet that gave us life.

But there won’t be any more journeys after this one, no more oceans explored. And maybe that’s why I am filled with calm. My life has been a migration without a destination, and that in itself is senseless. I leave for no reason, just to be moving, and it breaks my heart a thousand times, a million.

I can't move to pull on my clothes except that somehow I do, and I can't stand on two feet except that somehow I do, and I can't walk, there's no way I can walk, except I do. I take step after step after step after step.

I never worked out how to be relied upon and also free.

It’s impossible to control someone else’s capacity for forgiveness.

How lonely it will be here, when it's just us.

Saving specific animals purely on the basis of what they offer humanity may be practical, but wasn’t this attitude the problem to begin with? Our overwhelming, annihilating selfishness?

I think there is meaning, and it lives in nurturing, in making life sweeter for ourselves, and for those around us.

My life has been a migration without a destination, and that in itself is senseless. I leave for no reason, just to be moving, and it breaks my heart a thousand times, a million.

We’re the only planet that has oceans. In all the known universe, we’re the only one sitting in the perfect spot for them, not too hot and not too cold, and it’s the only reason we’re alive, because it’s the ocean that creates the oxygen we need to breathe.

What makes a young thing like you so tired of life?

Mam used to tell me to look for the clues. "The clues to what?" I asked the first time. "To life. They are hidden everywhere.

Then again, it’s a fool who tries to protect a creature from its own instincts.

Sitting here now, in the uppermost part of this boat, I would give anything, any part of me—my flesh or my blood or my very heart itself—to be back inside one of those nights, standing beside her in the dark, she who infuriated and confused me, she who was unknowable and unreachable, she who loved me when no one else did, only I was too intent on loneliness to see it.

But the rhythms of the sea's tides are the only things we humans have not yet destroyed.

It has been decided by our leaders that economic growth is more important. That the extinction crisis is an acceptable trade for their greed.

Don’t, I whisper, inside. Don’t leave. But I know she must. It’s in her nature.

I feel that deep and terrible binding for what it is, I know its face and its name, and it's not a binding at all, but love, and maybe that's the same king of thing after all.

But there won't be any more journeys after this one, no more oceans explored. And maybe that's why I am filled with calm. My life has been a migration without a destination, and that in itself is senseless. I leave for no reason, just to be moving, and it breaks my heart a thousand times, a million. It's a relief to at last have a purpose. I wonder what it will feel like to stop. I wonder where we go, afterwards, and if we are followed. I suspect we go nowhere, and become nothing, and the only thing that saddens me about this is the idea of never seeing Niall again. We are, all of us, given such a brieft moment of time together, it hardly seems fair. But it's precious, and maybe it's enough, and maybe it's right that our bodies dissolve into the earth, giving our energy back to it, feeding the little creatures in the ground and giving nutrients to the soil, and maybe it's right that our consciousness rests. The thought is peaceful.

The Arctic tern has the longest migration of any animal. It flies from the Arctic all the way to the Antarctic, and then back again within a year. This is an extraordinarily long flight for a bird its size. And because the terns live to be thirty or so, the distance they will travel over the course of their lives is the equivalent of flying to the moon and back three times.

All these humans have left no space for anything else.

There are very few people, in my understanding of the world, who offer tenderness so freely.

Don’t apologize too much, kid. It’ll bleed you dry.” “What if you’ve a lot to apologize for?” “Once is enough for anything.” I suppose that’s true. It’s impossible to control someone else’s capacity for forgiveness.

There is hardly anything wild left, and this is a fate we are, all of us, intimately aware of.